I giggle. Everything is suddenly very funny. “Don’t tell your mother.”
“Ugh,” Sasha says, sounding sincerely offended. “Mead is for old ladies.”
“You shouldn’t drink,” Bash says. “You could have a concussion.”
“I don’t have a concussion,” I say, and sip my tea. The tastes of herbs and honey and alcohol fill me with a sudden, gentle peace.
“It’s hardly any mead at all,” Sasha adds. “Like, a dash, at best.”
“Then I’ll need more,” he says, and gets up and vanishes into my room.
Sasha looks over at me and widens her eyes eloquently. “Old ladies andbarnpirates,” she mouths. I sip my tea and wish I had more mead, too.
Bash returns with a mug filled to the brim with mead, which he knocks back in a single, fluid movement. I am once again left watching the way his throat works.
“Well,” he says, banging down the mug a little more forcefully than necessary. “Let’s get this cleaned up.”
“No, wait,” Sasha says, shooting to her feet. “I have an idea.” She turns to me, eyes glistening. “This was all stuff you were getting rid of, right?” She gestures at the very, very messy entryway.
I nod.
“Let’s get it out on the tables tomorrow:Books that fell on the princess, half-price, today only!We’ll sell out in an hour.”
“I don’t know,” I say, slowly. “That feels exploitative.”
“Tandy,” Sasha says, hands on her hips, “at what point are you going to accept that you are a massive celebrity and everyone here is super proud of you and your bookstore? You want to sell books; everyone wants a bit of you. We can do both things.”
“They could come inside and buy books normally,” I point out.
“Those areboring books, and you’re intimidating! These”—she gestures wildly toward the hall—“areexciting booksthat are part ofhistory, and everyone will want one! ‘Oh, I was there the day the bookcase fell on the cursed princess; this is one of thevery books.’ It’s genius. I swear, it’ll work. Oooh.” She leans forward, her eyes sparkling. “You couldsignthem.”
“I am not going to sign them,” I sigh. “And I’m not intimidating.”
“You’re aroyal princess. You live ina castle. You wear clothes that cost what most people earn in a year. Five years. And for reasons everyone is very unclear on, you’re cursed to live in a bookstore in the middle of nowhere while this endless stream of princes come traipsing through trying to kiss you. That’s alotfor Little Pepperidge! We got excited when a wyvern built a nest in the Crannymete gorge last year!”
I lean forward and put my head in my hands. Delicately; after all, my temple still hurts. Everything hurts, in fact.
“Wyverns are very rare this far north,” I finally say.
“And I’m bringing my friend by on Saturday to talk about your sign with you,” she says, standing up straighter. “Barn Pirate”—she never refers to Bash as anything other than “Barn Pirate”—“let’s move these into piles by the door and I’ll get the princes to come by and help sell them tomorrow. The one from today can’t leave until he’s certain you aren’t dead and he didn’t just start a war, and the others have all shamed each other into staying until the curse is broken or Tandy dies of old age. Or something like that.”
“Wonderful,” I mutter. I’ve still got my head in my hands. I hear Bash rise, just the rustle of fabric, and footsteps going pastme. Sasha and Bash spend a good half hour piling the books up by the door, and I spend the entire time with my head in my hands, trying not to let the welter of confused feelings overwhelm me. I have the mad urge to giggle, and also to cry. I do neither. When they finally leave—I hear their goodbyes from the door—I get up and make my way to my room. It’s been an hour or two since the accident, and everything is really starting to hurt. I find a couple of rudimentary spells to ease aches and pains and then, without bothering to get undressed, I lie down in bed, curl up around the cat, and cry myself to sleep.
It is the first time I’ve cried since I turned thirteen.
Chapter 32
When I wake up the next morning, everything aches. My head is throbbing and sensitive to the touch; my back feels like someone dropped a load of rocks on me; and, because I fell asleep in a ball like a hedgehog and never uncurled in the night, my shoulders are tight. I am sure I must have felt physically worse at some point in my life, but at this moment, I can’t remember when that might have been.
It’s late morning: Light is streaming in through the windows leading to the little garden, which means the sun’s pretty high in the sky. I slept later than I intended. I sigh as I uncurl and get up, and hobble over toHousehold Magicfor another anti-aching spell. It doesn’t do much, but it helps a little. I peel off my clothes from yesterday—another reason I woke up uncomfortable; I’m not wearing stays these days, but my vest is tight and my skirt has a waistband without much give—cast the light prestidigitation spell, wash myself off with some cold water from the basin,and then dig around for something clean to wear. I find one of Mrs. Gooch’s old dresses, the gray one with black-and-white embroidery I’d admired when I first pulled it out of the drawers under the bed, and pull it on. It fits perfectly. The skirt flares nicely when I twirl, which makes me feel a bit better. I can’t muster the energy to put my hair up—and what’s the point, anyway?—so I tie it back with a ribbon, eat a roll, and head out into the shop.
The collapsed bookcase has been set on its side, as has the one it collapsed into. The latter is salvageable, but the former is no better than kindling. Sasha and the pirate piled everything up neatly last night, but the path to the door is now so narrow as to permit only one person through at a time. There’s not much I can do about it, given that I can’t leave the premises to pile the books up outside, so I sit down at my desk and pull a fresh sheet of paper over to myself, and stare down at it.
Dear Honey,
As difficult as the others have been, Ternis is the first prince to cause me bodily harm.
He declaimed for twenty minutes and then grabbed me and dipped me in what I assume was intended to be a romantic gesture, but which in fact sent me knocking into a bookcase I’d accidentally de-spelled while tidying, which sent the bookcase tumbling onto me. He, romantically, saw what was happening and let go and stepped out of the way, but I, overbalanced, could not do the same. I haven’t had a chance to look at my back, but I’ve cast two anti-aching spells since it happened, and it still hurts like nobody’s business, so I assume it looks anabsolute state. To judge from the bruise on my temple, which I can see in the mirror, I’m probably completely black and blue.
